Storyteller
by kiwisdream2
Summary: Authors, artists, and film directors rejoice, you might be the actual gods of another dimension. OC/SI Time Lord
1. Prolouge: Lucan

**Warnings(overall): Possible mature/dark themes, such as death, violence, and the discussion/ appearance of reasonable emotional and mental health issues that occur as a result. Language. Queer characters or the idea of fluid gender will probably come up every so often and while it's not a major focus in this story please don't read if any of that offends you and then leave me discriminatory reviews.**

 **A/N:** Feel free to let me know what you think, or want to happen. My idea for this fic is pretty loose. I mostly just wanted to try writing a OC/SI Time Lord, but with some changes to the usual formula (male protagonist who actually grew up on Galifrey and fought in the war, with more of a friendship/family focus, and hopefully little to no episode rewrites, we'll see). I got some inspiration from the in-progress fic _Beyond the Looking Glass_ by Yuuki no Yuki which is great so far and you should check it out if you haven't already!

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 _Prologue: Lucan_

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I want to tell you a story, one about my life. It's an odd one, for sure, that I certainly never expected to experience, and even now am not quite sure how to tell it properly. This is because instead of a comprehensive and satisfying tale that consists of a clear beginning, middle, and end, my story is a nonlinear ball of string that applies under laws of logic new to me.

I'll try, perhaps, to start by putting things into context.

Many stories, especially those with long term production or multiple parts, have plot holes: Dues ex Machinas, retcons, or pieces of logic in a single verse that directly contradict themselves.

This is all a very perfectly natural piece in the process of storytelling, regardless of the criticisms it begets. Due to a story's nature as a 'false world', created by but limited by the minds and hands of its storytellers, its ideas are constantly rewritten and changed, especially often in franchises by executive meddling and the conflicting opinions of all sorts of staff: actors, writers, editors, PR teams, directors, sponsors, _etc, etc, etc_. Even readers, viewers, listeners (fans) themselves— from casual to obsessive— often have different opinions when they try work around a story's flaws and string up theories or reasons that make these torn threads weave neatly into the plot or verse or _canon_. While an out of character moment may have been motivated by a different writer or actor interpretation of that character or role, or even simply necessary for the sake of more entertainment or an _overall_ more cohesive plot, the fan will dig deeper to understand the in-story motivation behind this moment that would be reasonable or possible based on their everyday life or known story tropes.

And so the process continues, birthing a million different reasons for dozens of versions of interpretations for character, plot-line, and setting. The story is constantly reborn again and again in the imaginations of others until it is forgotten or lost in the passage of time and no longer has anyone to observe it.

But what happens, then, when you end up in a story? Specifically, a series that has run for 50 years on going, riddled with plot holes and contradictions and many other inconsistencies. Would the rules of your old reality apply to this world? Or would that confused franchise have been factual about the world actually around you now? And if you could truly accept that you were brought into this universe—by god or death or sudden headaches— and that this world that was once born of many minds and imaginations crammed together for both the sake of pleasure and commerce was now your reality, what did that mean for your old one? If you had faith that the lines of your sanity and perception where not blurred, than does that mean those of reality and fiction where? From this experience, surely, you would start to question one thing:

 _Was my old world, and the rules it abided by, truly_ real _?_

And along with that inquiry a whole new world would open, one where the universe was a whole lot wider than simply separate solar systems and stars and galaxies, and in an odd way, the unknown miracles and magic of your old reality could be the Dues ex Machinas in another writer's story, and the every-man actually some other universe's God.

It's a concept that I've puzzled over for centuries, and often in private since I was sure most would not share the faith I had in my sanity. _Especially_ not when the people around me regularly participated in a ritual that was known to drive a third of those who participated mad.

But to simplify matters in the most linear form I can, I have 'permanently' died once, and lived as two different people. _Well_ … several. But the first person I was, the one who permanently died as the collective persons I am now will do one day, was entirely different to the people I was after that, if that makes any sense.

In that first life I was born as a different species, with a different sex, on a different planet, in a different isolated universe that was actually far into my current home planet's non-existent future, to a different name. Abigail, I think I was called, but that was an awfully long, long time ago, so I could be wrong.

Either way, though, Abigail was human. A girl born during the 1990s on a _very_ different version of Earth in what she learned to call the Milky Way galaxy, who lived to around her 70s with a relatively peaceful life. She had a rather large family, so spread out that she didn't even get to meet all of them by the time of her death, but regularly sent out cards to them on holidays with her mother. She was one of many humans that made up the general populace, never contributing to the 'big picture' but finding joy in the little things, such as miraculously marrying her high school sweetheart, and getting her little brother into college. Family was important to her, and she was a generally laid back and quiet person with her fair share of ups and downs. She died of a heart attack and old age, a relatively normal death, even if perhaps a bit young by her generation's standards.

Like most people when they die, I suppose, her soul, or life, or being, was returned to the universe, or Void, whatever you wish to call it, and remained there until she was to be born again.

I don't recall where Abigail went after she died, but I remember the bone deep emptiness that was the Void enough to known I probably would have gone mad with the memories anyway, so I don't mind the loss.

That's another odd part of this story, though— lost memories. Although now the memories have gotten fuzzy with time, I didn't remember my life as Abigail at all until I first peered into the Untempered Schism.

No, before my eight birthday, I was like any other proud Galifreyan child. My true name was given to me by the universe, and my childhood nickname by my mother. I had ambitions to become a Time Lord through the academy, and once I turned eight, I participated in the ceremony as all children do, slightly intimidated by the tales that those who looked into the Untempered Schism could only run, be inspired, or go mad.

Who _I_ became when I looked into the void really depends on who you ask, though. In the moment I was very overwhelmed by all the memories and ran, but because I stood before the schism so long many thought I went mad, while others thought I was inspired thanks to all the books I wrote and published in the academy and through adulthood.

Unfortunately, I didn't swing right back on my feet after getting back all my memories. I made the poor choice of speaking about Abagail occasionally in my earlier school years to some friends, and because I wasn't part of anyone's evil mastermind plan like The Master, was put on observation for insanity and nearly culled.

Luckily, though, I was able to direct a lot of my early obsession with Abigail into the study of the universe, and parallel universes. I wasn't exactly the best student in the academy, especially in mathematics (I'd long sense mastered the art of getting by), but I did take advantage of all the resources the academy gave. I found alien culture, language, and history the most fascinating (perhaps because Abigail was born on such an early century Earth), and so came to specialize in that field even though Time Lords rarely interacted with other planets. Outside of classes I tended to investigate or learn about different areas of study almost weekly as a hobby, which made me good friends with the academy librarian, and some mechanics I'd apprenticed under, but was odd considering I hadn't been much of a researcher or fiddler in the past life.

A lot of the reason for this was probably because of the difference in my physiology between lives, but also just plain boredom. Even though the course work at the academy was hardly easy, you could spend literally hundreds of years just in school, and I barely had any friends among my peers due to my earlier supposed 'insanity'. I value learning a lot more now, but back then I definitely had to find _some_ way to spend my free time. Regardless of the source material I'd first seen this universe in, only renegades went off planet on adventures in the society I lived in. You were a literal criminal on Galifrey if you interfered with time or other civilizations. Just leaving the planet without proper reason and permission was a big no-no, and as pretty as Galifrey is, Time Lords, and especially the High Counsel, weren't exactly known for their kindness. I could see why Rassilon was a Big Bad so much in the Doctor Who series.

Either way, I didn't rock the boat too much. I was born ages after The Doctor( _well…_ technically not, since he time traveled, but I was born years after him in terms of his birth year on Galifrey) so I didn't run into him for a long time, although I did hear about him often since he was such a well-known 'troublemaker.' It was actually pretty funny seeing stuffy old geezers get so ruffled about him, but I had the academy and my own life to worry about, especially with the upcoming Time War. I wasn't hugely worried about dying, since I had already far outlived my past lifespan, but I did want to graduate, get my Title, and possibly some grants (not to mention a TARDIS license) so I could actually see up close some of the cultures I spent so much time studying. Writing papers and books had quickly become a new hobby of mine, and I figured some of the curriculum I was learning was probably (absolutely) wrong considering how there were laws against people wondering off-planet.

When the time came, though, despite all the fore-warning, it was hard to choose my Title. There weren't any specific rules surrounding what you named yourself, in terms of what language or word you used. Technically I could have called myself Tiffany, or George, or badboy69 and by proxy made all my fellow scholars call me whatever the hell I wanted as well, but that was a bit like tattooing a joke on myself and ridiculous in the long run. The concept of naming myself was also odd since I was so used to just dealing with whatever my parents or the universe gave me, and I didn't particularly have any grand promise I wanted to keep, either. Anything related to my field or hobby—like 'storyteller' or 'scholar'—sounded pretentious as all hell, too. I was slightly tempted to call myself Abigail, but that would practically be like signing my death sentence considering how I was monitored for insanity all those years ago, and well, Abigail wasn't entirely _me_. Not anymore. More like a small piece of who I was.

Eventually I ended up choosing the title *Lucan, as a promise not to forget my roots.

If I thought the academy was suffocating, though, all the paperwork and rules I had to adhere to once I became a Time Lord was even worse. I got my TARDIS license pretty quickly, but wasn't approved to go on a solo trip for another century after getting my Title, and even then had about half a dozen procedures I had to follow or it was purgatory for me.

But to make things even better(heavy sarcasm), when I was halfway through one of my trips, almost done with the documentation of a planet called Sagjwus, the cloister bell rung, and my TARDIS started to phase back to Galifrey. Considering I hadn't broken procedure and had permission to be there, though, it didn't take long to figure out what was going on. There was only one reason the recall on the TARDIS would activate had I not stolen it or committed a crime.

I was around 236 when the Last Great Time War began. Or well, it's hard to say that exactly. Time lining any Time War would be impossible, but this one especially. The beginning and end where constantly changing, and the High Counsel was pretty keen to abuse time and break all the rules they forced everyone else to follow once the other party had started breaking them and they were at a disadvantage.

It's really hard to entirely describe the war in any other way then hell. Even just the scale of it. To put it in in perspective, one 'part' of a TARDIS's core, The Eye of Harmony, is an exploding star suspended in time, harnessing the constant potential energy of a black hole that would never occur. A black hole that could normally destroy entire solar systems, and Time Lords turned it into an engine that made time travel possible. What kind of weapons would a race like that use, do you think?

Even entire species where wiped out just because they got caught in the cross fire, regardless of location or era. Sometimes even as a _distraction_ , as disgusting as that sounds. It wasn't exactly like you could avoid the blast zone of higher races who could travel through all of space and time. Paradoxes where a practically a daily occurrence, with so many aborted time lines that by the end of it all god knows how old you really where. Time isn't meant to be twisted and abused like that, and many horrors where born in an attempt by the universe to mend itself. All that vague background exposition monologue about the monsters of the Last Great Time War from an old TV series –things like the Nightmare Child, the Skaro Degradations, the Army of Meanwhiles and Neverweres, the Could've Been King, and the Horde of Travesties—came to life in the most terrifying of ways.

I regenerated about three times during the war, with very little time to truly get a grasp on my different personalities, which did little to help the state of my debatable sanity. I was an adult by Galifrey standards as a Time Lord, but still considered fairly young at the beginning of the Time War, so I spend a majority of the time working in relief instead of tactics or battle(unless I was dragged into it in the heat of a moment). A lot of my hobbies came in handy, then, because I had about twelve different jobs or roles going at one time. A nurse, a mechanic, a backup solider, a chef—I did just about everything, as long as it was needed, I was there, and I knew how to do it or could learn on the go. The Doctor himself was somewhat of a war hero once he got involved, but again regardless of the TV show I'd watched and liked centuries ago our paths never crossed. He was often in several different places at once, off the planet, and practically hugging the reaper while at the heart of enemy ships. There wasn't exactly time for meet and greets, and a cup of tea, and back then I was pretty sure there never would've been.

I'm not quite sure how it all ended, though. If the show I'd watched years ago was correct, then Galifrey was in a safe little pocket universe, but unfortunately the last time I was on the planet it was burning, when after I spent what I think was two centuries being a jack of all trades I was recruited to help out on an off planet mission since I knew how to fly a TARDIS and had experience actually using one.

We succeeded, I suppose, though it was a nightmare and a half with death on both sides. Because I wasn't exactly the beef of the team, and more the driver-nurse-mechanic-backup guy I was one of the last standing. Some of the soldiers had survived, but they were still in the middle of their 15 hour regeneration probation period and passed out from the shock and pain of their deaths. Unfortunately for me, among the bodies was also a charred and barely functioning Dalek, twitching and sparking unlike the still metal corpses around it.

And of course chanting like the homicidal maniac it was.

I guess it was kind of funny to hear it stutter, but before I could laugh the damn thing was shooting at me, so I ducked behind a few of its friend's leftover debris until I found an eyestalk to re-purpose. Unfortunately, though, Daleks are part of a hive mind, and beyond suicidal when malfunctioning and losing, so by the time I was finally able to shoot back and kill the thing, it had already set the ship we were on to self-destruct. 10 seconds, the TARDIS halfway across the ship, and two passed out soldiers I could barely even carry. I made my decision and ran. Left them to die, sleeping and unaware of my betrayal, and didn't even think to find another way.

Even worse than that, though, for a brief second I even _genuinely_ believed that it was more important that the TARDIS survived than those two men because it was a resource that was starting to become scarcer during the war. An asset.

As the explosion of the ship caught up with me, lighting the interior of the TARDIS aflame, I think for the first time I could truly understand why The Doctor would consider using The Moment. There were so many monsters that where created during the war, and not just by our enemies.

I deserved to have died in that explosion, but not to regenerate afterwards.

* * *

 ***** Lucan was a Roman poet (that I'm not hugely educated on, I warn you lol). Once of the reasons our protagonist would chose this name is that Lucan once wrote about the Phoenix— a symbol of rebirth— and was scholarly, which all fit into our protagonist's idea of what his core roots are as a reborn human with a passion for learning new things and a newfound philosophical interest in storytelling after being born into a previously fictional universe. Personally, I chose it because it was one of the least ridiculous options out there that fit his in-character motivations. Under cover it would also be easy too bc Lucas is a common name. I was tempted to find a more feminine or unisex name because of his life as Abigail, but again a lot of those names where rly pompous/cheesy sounding so oh well.


	2. Chapter 1: Crashed

_Chapter 1: Crashed_

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When I came too after that regeneration, I was probably the least lucid I'd ever been. The past few times I had gone through the process might not have been especially pretty because I was either on a battle field or near it, but at least then I had people around to help me handle my emotional fluctuations and watch out for me as I slept off my post death shock and identity crises cocktail. This time, though, the only thing that surrounded me was a falling, dying, burning TARDIS that would literally supernova if I didn't stop it.

To make matters worse I kept blacking out due to the flash naps my body forced me into in an effort to shut down, losing indefinite amounts of time as I scrambled between stomping out flames and fiddling with the console and controls so the TARDIS wouldn't blow up and take pieces of the universe with it. Then I would forget which model of TARDIS I was on since we had used an older, near museum piece for the mission that I had trouble handling even when fully conscious and aware, and end up pressing a jumble of the right and wrong buttons. Not even to mention the way my body's new cells where literally fighting against me the entire time, making me spasm and twitch, on top of my stomach demanding something to eat or drink to help it get a kick start, even though the kitchen was no doubt in ruins if the state of the console room was anything to go by. Every time I glanced at a pillar or wall I thought I saw a Dalek, and then I went right back through the cycle of panicking and remembering and _regret, regret, regret._

When the room gave a particular hard tilt and lurch among all the quaking and sparking and fire, a lever was jammed into my temple which only furthered my dazed delirium. I'm still not entirely sure if I actually passed out from the impact, kept attempting to work with the controls through the haze, or dreamed about pressing buttons and pulling levers, but I do know that once I was semi-lucid again, the first thing that I felt was that suddenly everything felt wrong and empty and I panicked.

At first I thought I was having a breakdown— which, to be fair, _I was_ — but then the gears in my head turned and I realized with a finality that _oh, so this is what it feels like when you're part of a telepathic species and everyone else is dead or out of reach_. I'd never really noticed it until that moment, but there had always been a slight buzzing in my head, a familiar comfort that had been wrapped around my conscious since I was a baby. And now it was gone, and all I had was this numb empty space that I knew would never be filled again.

It _hurt._

But that wasn't all that was wrong, and I couldn't afford to waste my time to grieve or mourn. I knew that the TARDIS would look different when I woke up— she hadn't been driven for centuries before she was forced into the battle field with makeshift handling and had just suffered through a major explosion and crash without proper shields. I had expected scorch marks and flayed wires and debris, a complete mess to deal with that would leave me spending ages on repairs, but when I looked up, instead of total destruction I saw a familiar coral desktop theme—one that I hadn't seen in centuries— that despite its clean if slightly rustic appearance, erased any of my hopes, and meant that the TARDIS I was in was already long dead and gone.

In retrospect, it made sense. After all, a dying TARDIS that couldn't make it to the Graveyard themselves could at least rip a hole in the Vortex to travel where they thought they would find assistance. With the telepathic connection she had with me, she probably knew that this era was the only one she'd ever likely be peacefully laid to rest in. If she had locked onto a healthy TARDIS during the Time War there isn't a doubt in my mine her death would have been abused as a weapon. An exploding TARDIS was much, much more deadly than a single exploding Dalek ship.

But she had been smart, and now she had a stable time-link with a healthy Type 40 TARDIS, and if The Doctor was anything like his TV show counterpart, she had just found the most willing man to help.

Well, if I could enlist his help in time. A time-linked TARDIS that was dying was fairly stable as long as you followed the right procedure. They were technically frozen in time by using the other TARDIS as proxy, and could last as long as the healthy TARDIS didn't move and remained, well, healthy. But it was an only just thing. If The Doctor phased out his TARDIS before I could find him than I'd literally be standing inside one of the deadliest bombs in the universe.

Suffice to say I didn't waste time in dragging myself outside. For a moment, I was worried how exactly I was going to find The Doctor since Time Lords, though they may be part of a telepathic species and able to recognize each other within a reasonable proximity, do not exactly have homing devices for each other. Luckily, though, I didn't have to go far. Although proximity wasn't necessary for a dying TARDIS to time-link, she had parked within feet of the familiar blue Telephone Police Box I was just about to go looking for. Smart girl was making everything easy for me even though she was going through so much pain.

Still, I didn't look forward to explaining any of this. What was I even supposed to even say? _Yes, hi, you're not the last of your species, I know. We can celebrate later after you help me lay my near supernovaing ship to rest?_

But regardless, I pulled back my hand and rapped on the front door.

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 **A/N:** And there we have it. Bit of a short chapter but it felt better to cut it off here. Next time around we'll finally have our first dialogue lol.

Also, just a big of fore warning, as much as I love Doctor Who and will be doing research for this fic, please forgive me if some canon details are wrong. I don't know everything, and lots of the information about Gallifrey is from books/comics I haven't read or contradicts itself(doctor who is such a long running franchise after all). A lot of the culture/history points that may come up in this fic will prob be head canon but I'll try to keep to the canon facts I know.

Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 2: Mistaken Identity

_Chapter 2: Mistaken Identity_

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There's a saying that one should never meet their heroes. It's one of those famous cliché phrases that you'll hear uttered across the stars, reworded to suit different cultures and in different languages but ultimately meaning the same thing. Like 'love your neighbor as thy self' or 'don't judge a book by its cover.'

While The Doctor had never particularly been a _hero_ of mine, he was someone that I held admiration for, both as a character Abigail had watched time and time again ultimately save the day on television, and as a legendary figure on our home planet who served as a foil to the High Counsel and society that had restricted me so much in my youth and later survived against insane odds during the Time War. Regardless of the fact that I'd lived long enough to be someone's great-great-great grandfather, I still put the man on a pedestal, and as cruel as it may be, didn't quite see him as a real person. I had presumptions that I knew how he'd react to me, and that I at least had some idea of his character. I even assumed that I was aware of my idealization of him at the time, and that I wouldn't act on those childish ideas of him.

Straight out of a regeneration, with no idea what _my_ new personality or even face where even like, yet I was so confident that I knew _everything_. Let it never be said that age makes you any less stupid. For someone who was around 460 at the time and pompously considered himself a scholar, I really could be thick.

But, well, once again, this all comes from retrospect. When I'd knocked on that big blue wooden door, all I was thinking about was the dying TARDIS about 10 feet away that was ready to supernova and take whatever planet we had landed on, and maybe the galaxy it was in, with it.

And then the door swung open, and my fist hit the air, and what was once David Tennant's face in another universe was starting straight at me.

"Well, hello. We have a bit of a problem." I said, straight to the point but not thankfully not forgetting my manners. Both not bad traits to have, mind you, so I was hoping they stayed.

"What?" asked the Time Lord, faced slightly scrunched in confused.

"If you looked a little ways behind me it might help." I suggested, hoping to rush through all the drama-y 'explain yourself' bits that where coming, adding impatient onto the list of possible new character traits so far. Didn't like that one as much.

"What?!" He gaped once he'd gotten sight of what I was referring to.

"We can sit down for tea and go through all of the details later, but to make a long story short my TARDIS is dying and has temporarily time-linked with yours."

"But that's impossible!" He exclaimed, "I would never let her die."

Now it was my turn to look confused. Was he saying that he could save the dying TARDIS? Her interior technically didn't even _exist_ anymore. There wasn't anything left that anyone could _try_ to fix or do maintenance on. Right as we spoke she was tearing herself apart in a contained time loop that wouldn't stop until we let her free in an environment she could safely explode in.

"Look, if you know some way around this then by all means I'd love for your help, but she's already past dying. She can't even go to the Graveyard on her own now. It was all she had just to rip a hole in the vortex to come here, wherever _here_ even is," I huffed, gesturing around me. "With the time-link her own body is already gone! If we tried to remove it, or even so much as move her, she would supernova right here and take us and everyone around us out with her!"

"So this is how it all ends?" The Doctor said, his brown eyes burning with fury as he stared into me, inching closer and hovering. "All those years of adventures with her by my side and _I just give up on her_?!"

For a moment I just stared at him blankly, completely bewildered and put on edge by his anger. I pondered if perhaps there was a way to save her that I just didn't know. After all, even this version The Doctor was likely more than twice my age, and he had spent nearly all those years piloting and maintaining a TARDIS. Even if I had driven multiple TARDISs over the years he definitely had an edge on me in experience. Not to mention how much of that time he had spent on the battle field. Perhaps she had gotten horribly damaged to the point of death before. Was there a way?

And then another, infinitely more plausible and obvious reason for why he was so offended hit me like a brick in the face. I slapped myself.

"Oh, stupid, _stupid_ me!" I moaned. "I didn't even think to introduce myself, no wonder you're confused. Maybe I'm rude again this time, after all?"

"Excuse me?" The Doctor ask, earlier anger erased by the suddenness of my exclamation. I really wasn't conscious of my surroundings— that was bad. Please lord tell me that explosion hadn't raddled me so hard my brain was literal soup now.

"Sorry, new regeneration, I'm really not thinking clearly." I apologized quickly. "I'm not you from the future, or anything like that. When a dying TARDIS time-links with a healthy one it copies their desktop theme and chameleon circuit so that it can be safely piloted—"

"I know what a TARDIS does when it dies." The Doctor said, indignantly. "But then… how…? Who?"

"I realized when I woke up there weren't exactly… many of us left, but I didn't realize you'd assume I was one of your later regenerations." I said hesitantly, holding out my hand for the sake of it. "I'm Lucan. A Time Lord."

"But that's…" The Doctor's eyes widened and forehead scrunched. "No, _no_ — that's Impossible!"

I dropped my hand when it didn't seem like he'd take it.

"Feel free to scan me if you need to?" I suggested, and he whipped out his sonic, a familiar buzz filling the air as the blue light glowed. He glanced between the readings and me several times before he was apparently satisfied, eyes bulging as he stared in my direction.

"How are you even here?" He asked, an indiscernible look in his gaze as his eyes wondered my face. "The war was time locked."

"Last act of desperation by the TARDIS, I suppose. We both know her death would have been used as a weapon if she'd found a healthy TARDIS to lock onto during the war." I said sadly, " _How_ exactly she made it here I don't know. I wasn't exactly lucid for the landi-"

I stopped mid-sentence, a sharp pain making me double over and grab onto The Doctor's arm for support. Where my organs really not done forming yet? God, everything felt pink like a baby too. How old was I this time?

"Are you alright?" The Doctor asked, helping me steady myself.

"Not sure," I responded truthfully. "But we really should deal with the TARDIS problem first. I can probably sleep this all off soon, but I wasn't kidding when I said she was unstable."

"Is there something wrong with the time-link?" The Doctor asked.

"It should hold, but I don't want to take any chances." I explained, "She was already old and malfunctioning before the mission, and god knows if the presence of a Time Lock has done anything to her. I could really do with you assistance."

"Right, I'll see what I can do." He agreed, "Suppose afterwards we could have that nice chat about the details over tea?"

"I'd love to." I grinned weakly, "We've never met but I've heard an awful lot about you, Doctor."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hope you enjoyed! Dialogue is the hardest for me to write. I haven't watched much of 10 in awhile too so I'm not sure if I've got his personality down right.

Thanks to those that have followed and favorited so far. Let me know if you have anything you'd like to see.


	4. Chapter 3: Funeral

_Chapter 3: Funeral_

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One thing that I've picked up over the years after having gotten to know The Doctor as a person instead of a character is that once you've melted or peeled away all the charm, intelligence, and other intricacies of his personality, at the very foundation of it all what you're left with is an _incredibly_ stubborn man. But while that mindless determination is quite possibly one of the very reasons that The Doctor is able to pull off all the impossible and amazing things he does, it is also one of the single most frustrating qualities to be on the other end of.

I got my first taste of this halfway through our first meeting. Regardless of how cordial The Doctor had been once he'd realized I wasn't a version of himself from the future but instead a stranger, he still refused to believe that there wasn't a way to save the TARDIS I'd brought with me. Even if he didn't have any idea himself how exactly to save it and couldn't even access the TARDIS's machinery without it literally blowing up in his face.

"There's got to be _something_ that we can do." The Doctor muttered, pacing around the console room. He'd been spending the past half hour doing this, scanning the area with his sonic screwdriver, and getting irritated when no good news showed up.

"There _isn't._ " I said, and definitely not for the first time. "This isn't something you can fix with a screw driver. Even on _Galifrey_ they wouldn't try to save a dying TARDIS, they grew a new one. And they at least had the parts or resources."

The Doctor turned around to glare at me again for probably the twelfth time, all that earlier talk about tea no doubt off his mind.

"And what about you? You don't care if she dies? One of the few last remaining pieces of Galifrey left and you want to let her destroy herself?" He growled.

"Do you think I like this?" I scoffed.

"You could have certainly fooled me. You haven't exactly been any amount of help, sitting there and complaining the whole time. I thought you wanted my help?"

"To lay her to rest, _yes_. Not fix her." I frowned, indignant. "I'm just trying to be reasonable. I know that you can't even see the possibilities of what will happen if you did any more than you've done already. I can't either. We can't even move her without risking an explosion. There's _nothing_ we can do."

"I don't think you understand," he seethed. "I know you felt it when you woke up, but there aren't just a few of us anymore. There's _no one else_. This is _it. Don't you want to even try_?"

My blood boiled at being treated like some heartless monster. I don't care? Why don't I try harder? Why did he think I was even _here?_ I'd done something horrible, something completely unforgivable, just to survive and save this TARDIS, only for it all to end in vain when I woke up. No punishment, no celebration. Just stranded. What did he even know about abandoning two perfect strangers as they slept, completely unaware that they were taking there last breaths? About being some extra tag-along, a glorified chauffeur, and yet somehow ending up the last man standing? There are things you can't change even if you want to, even if you regret it. Yet still he's asking me to risk the life of a planet to save a dying museum piece? What right did him or I even have to make that choice?

"I do, _I do_ want to try!" I snapped. "But no matter what, _it's not worth the risk!_ You'd think you of all people would understand that."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not stupid. Just because I haven't said anything doesn't mean I don't understand the implication when you say it's impossible for me to be here, and that Galifrey is time locked. _That we're all that's left."_

The Doctor faltered, looking like he'd been slapped. Maybe it was cruel, to use that against him even when I knew the truth that Galifrey was most likely safe in a pocket universe thanks to him, but I didn't care. The man was being thick and not realizing how unnecessary and possibly catastrophic the risk he wanted to take was. And maybe I was just irritated at him because he was supposed to be sparkly and perfect and _understand_ , but he wasn't and didn't and wouldn't, so I wanted to throw cheap punches. Poke at open wounds.

"Look, I've—not even hours ago, I was fighting in the war. Two men I even let die earlier in slim hopes of saving this TARDIS. To complete the mission, to protect the _asset_." I spat. "I know exactly how valuable and rare this machine is. But I regret leaving those men behind. Don't mistake me being unwilling to risk the lives of innocent people on a planet and in a galaxy I don't belong to for indifference of what's left of my homeland's legacy. You lose nothing if this TARDIS dies, but could you live with yourself if something went wrong when we tried to revive her? This TARDIS has served me well, but now it's time to lay her to rest."

I avoided The Doctor's gaze, not even wanting to see whatever reaction he would have to my outburst. Disappointed, no doubt, that the only other member of his species was both a quitter and a murderer. Angry, indefinitely, about the fact that he knew that regardless of what we did try the TARDIS would probably still die. With a sigh that bit through the tense silence, I rested my face in my hands. I was too tired for this shit.

"Just give me more time." said The Doctor eventually, startling me out of my self-deprecation.

When I looked up to him, I was surprised to see that his glare was gone. In place of all the hate and resentment I had been expecting was a raw pleading. The sort of look you only give someone when you're desperate.

"I don't want anyone to get hurt, either, I just… need to make sure there's nothing than can be done."

"OK." I gave in, because that I could understand. I also had no idea what it was like for him, to live thinking your entire species dead until one day one of them appeared at your doorstep with a dying relic of your home planet. I really shouldn't expect him to remain completely unfazed and calm. "Just… be careful. Say your goodbyes if you need to. I'll stay here."

Surprisingly, it didn't take long. Despite The Doctor's much calmer and slower stride, he finished whatever he had to do before the hour was up. When he started pressing buttons on the console I panicked, until he silently titled the screen so I could see the coordinates and clued me in.

"This is the nearest star far away from any planets." He explained, voice monotone. "I'm setting it on the delay so we can synch the dematerialization once I've set everything else up. We're going to have to leave once I'm done."

I nodded, and watched over his work in case I had to make any changes, but thankfully nothing came up, or unthankfully I just couldn't tell if I did. Calibrators online and coordinates set, we both rushed out to synchronize the other TARDIS's settings and prepare for take-off. I was pretty sure that there was a less hands-on method to this as we scrambled around to get everything right, but for the life of me I couldn't remember it. All I could do was pray as the console room shook and the TARDIS dematerialized, hanging onto the railing for dear life.

After all the shaking stopped, though, and our safety was assured, The Doctor surprised me again as he started fiddling with the controls once more. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what he was doing (finding some place to kick me out at, maybe?) but when I got a good look at him I realized that in place of the brown pinstripe suit he had been wearing earlier was a black one. A hell of a thing to overlook, and I puzzled over when he'd even found the time to change during all the chaos.

As we landed yet again, The Doctor walked over to open the TARDIS doors oblivious to my confusion, letting a bright light pour into the interior. When I walked over to see where exactly he had landed, I realized that we were looking at the star the dying TARDIS had just driven into the heart of, and suddenly the black suit made sense. We were watching her trip to the Graveyard.

It wasn't much of a sight, really. The dying TARDIS was in the heart of the star while she gathered energy for a journey no one could be witness to, while we at a safe distance merely observed the unchanging surface flames. Yet still, for as much time as I'd spent convincing The Doctor to let the TARDIS die, it was hard to watch the star stutter and burst as it burned with the knowledge what was going on inside of it. Images of different flames flitted through my mind as I watched the TARDIS go, the names and faces of old friends and strangers I'd never see again imprinted on my eyelids.

Even to this day it's difficult to exactly describe my relationship with Galifrey. It was beautiful, sure, and had felt like home as any place will if you spend there long enough, but even though I'd devoted centuries to that place I'd never truly gotten close to anyone. Not the professors or storekeepers, not my peers or colleagues—hell, even my parents and childhood friends I had secretly held at arm's length. All of it because of Abigail. As much as my life as her is a part of me that is wonderful, I've never been far from cursing her. Even now I think I blame her a bit, referring to her as if she's another person instead of me. Like it's her fault that I could never truly get close to anyone because she'd given me a secret that no one would believe and had almost gotten me killed when I was young. Like it was her fault that her innocent life as a human born on Earth had made me dissatisfied and at odds with Galifreyan law and philosophy. Like it was her fault that I couldn't connect with people that I always hesitantly thought would one day be gone or dead.

I'd always wanted to get away from Galifrey and see the world and universe that was out there. Especially during the war. Yet standing there, watching one of the last remnants of my once home planet burn up, I missed it already. It was safe in some pocket dimension, sure, but I would never be able to step foot there again. I didn't know how to place how that made me feel, stuck with a vague sense of regret that I should have treasured the time that I had more.


	5. Chapter 4: What Now?

_Chapter 4: What Now?_

* * *

The awkward silence was probably the worst part. Once all the angst and grief I was projecting on the moment simmered out, I didn't really know what to do with myself. Keep staring at the surface of the sun? Jump out of the TARDIS and put myself out of my own misery? Ask The Doctor to hitch me a ride someplace so I could settle down?

Only other member left of my species or not, The Doctor was still ultimately a stranger that not only moments ago I had even been at odds with. I didn't really know what he was thinking about or reflecting on as he looked forward, still dressed in his shabby suit. Would he be willing to help me or take me with him? Did I even _want_ that?

It had been years since I'd even been able to really think about my future instead of the constant cataloguing and risk management I was used to during the war. As one of the last Time Lords I suppose I could be hunted down, so I wanted to lay low. I suppose I could still research, as that was fairly harmless and inconspicuous. But the biggest question was still definitely a simple, hanging "what do I do now?"

What I didn't realize in my musings is that I had actually spoken aloud.

"Wellll, we could have that tea. For starters." The Doctor suggested, startling me.

I glanced at him cautiously. "Right now?"

He looked me over.

"You could take a shower and rest first if you like," He said softly.

I glanced down at the rags I'd been wearing, grimacing at how tattered and matted they were. I hadn't even noticed.

"Good idea." I admitted.

"Feel free to borrow anything from the wardrobe." The Doctor said, finally closing the doors to the TARDIS, the bright light that had filled the room vanishing and replaced by the turquoise glow of the console core.

We exchanged a few more awkward words, and before long I was nervously shuffling to the showers. It was an eerie experience for me, even though it shouldn't have been. Luckily the TARDIS didn't seem to hold any sort of personal grudge against me for the death of one of her would-be siblings and guided me where I needed to go, but the familiar decorations and soaps and knick knacks I spotted when stepping into certain rooms put me on edge. Most of the TARDISs I had spent my time on had been for regulatory use and so where shared with several other people at one time. The sentient machines then had never really cared to get attached to their owners when they had so many of them so the idea of the TARDIS trying to make me feel at home was odd. I kept thinking there was some short of agenda that she had, especially whenever I spotted something that resembled one of Abigail's old belongings. I don't know what I was really afraid of. If she wanted to she could have locked me in a room and kept me there and even The Doctor would have had little control over it, but I wasn't really thinking straight. Just panicky and nervous.

Either way, though, everything I came across was harmless and benign, so I tried to shake the idea out of my head as I toweled off and headed down the hall and up the steel grated stairs to the nearby wardrobe.

It was a pretty haphazard and rustic design, all manner of clothes strewn against the grates and hanging on racks as well as the coral decorations that organically sprouted from floor to ceiling. While I was looking for something to wear amongst the piles of loose and hanging clothing I caught my reflection in a standing mirror laying against a wall in the room and freezed when I didn't recognize the person looking back at me. I had felt many of the changes of my regeneration—smaller limbs, larger teeth, new organs, more malleable joints—but it was my first time getting a chance to actually see all my new features together.

Once I had inched closer to the standing mirror and got a closer look I realized my new face was probably the youngest I'd worn in a while. Few wrinkles with no grey hair—I think most people would place me in my mid-to-early 30s at a glance. I was a bit shorter than I would've liked, and not very muscular, but at least one of those things could be changed. My hair was a moppy brown and my eyes so dark they were almost black. I had thick eyebrows and a short forehead, and when I played around with my facial expressions I realized I had dimples.

"Never had those before." I mused, switching between a neutral expression and fake smile to make them appear and disappear.

It would take some getting used to, especially with the new hand-eye coordination, but overall it wasn't too bad.

Turning away from the mirror, I shifted my attention back to the wardrobe and continued trying to find something to wear. It was hard to find something that agreed with me, though, when I had always defaulted automatically for practicality without care for preference my past few regenerations during the war. In my first body I had often preferred robes that had some kind of lace and embroidery, but everything similar I picked out felt restricting and unflattering and I decided I didn't like those types of outfits much anymore. More casual clothes like cotton tees or denim jeans, however, felt weirdly exposing like pajamas, and when I tried more formal clothes like a suits or dress shirts, they felt too stiff.

Eventually I settled on a pair of black folded flat front trousers, hiking boots, a navy camo jacket, and a hidden undershirt. It had enough pockets for me to be comfortable but not overwhelmed, a pattern so my outfit wasn't completely boring, and shoes that I didn't have to worry about ruining or hurting my feet. Satisfied, I took my old tattered clothes and tossed them in the bin and headed out onto my next task.

Picking out a room was… odd. And anticlimactic. I didn't feel tired but knew I needed sleep, so despite how much I felt like I was invading I opened the first door that felt right and that was that.

The room itself gave me that same eerie feeling as before because certain decorations where definitely gifts that Abigail had received from her wife and family. One such object was one of the first gifts Abigail had ever received from one of her students, a makeshift ceramic cup painted copper that rested on a desk table with what looked like some of my old destroyed research papers. Aside from that some of her favorite old books from Earth where also stacked on the bookshelf alongside my own, and the room's overall design also looked like some weird amalgamation of my old study from Galifrey and the room Abigail had spent the last few years of her life in. It sent a shiver down my spine to see so many things that I had even doubted to be real once suddenly in front of me and alive. I hadn't even remembered where the copper pot had come from at first since I had taken up personal study instead teaching in this life. It felt invasive, like all my secrets where on display in a way that shouldn't even be possible.

When I spotted a framed photo of Abigail's wife, Lily, however, that uncertain and uncomfortable feeling quickly turned into anger.

"Do you think this is some sort of joke?!" I hissed in frustration, tossing the old photo into one of the drawers of the desk.

In the peripheral of my mind I thought perhaps I felt the equivalent of an apology from the TARDIS, but I was so fed up that I merely huffed as I turned off the lights and went to bed so I could sleep, pushing off everything I had to deal with to tomorrow.

* * *

 **A/N:** So much domestics. I'm not completely happy with this so maybe I'll come back and edit it later but I figured I'd post it anyway. Hopefully we'll have some more progress next chapter. I'll be aiming to establish the canon timeline then. Still trying to think where exactly I want to place Lucan lol. They've met when Ten was alone, but I can't decide if I want it to be after Rose, Martha, or Donna (I've been writing with the last in mind tho). Ten's run was actually pretty short in-universe, and although I want to keep away from rewrites for the most part it would be nice to have some intersection with canon. It would be a glorious mess for Lucan to be around during Waters of Mars considering how odd their relationship is right now lmao

Thanks for all the favorites, follows, and reviews!


	6. Chapter 5: Voyage of the Damned

_Chapter 5: Voyage of the Damned_

* * *

When I woke up it was with a jolt of pain and on the other side of the room. Pressed into a wall, in fact. Not to mention tangled in a blanket with the corner of some wooden chest I hadn't looked into yet stabbing into my side, the whole room shaking.

I tried standing up, but still half-asleep tripped on my blanket, worsening the tangle and flailing in a confused mess. For a second my body felt foreign and odd— the wrong height and weight— but I could vaguely recall feeling a similar sensation before. Some post regeneration adjustment issue. The room I woke up in, however, didn't feel familiar at all at first so I quickly backed into the nearest corner once I'd gotten free of the oh-so-dangerous blankie, eyes darting around and trying to assess the strange location and possibly find a cause for the earlier shaking. Only to feel completely ridiculous for panicking once my senses caught up with me and I remembered where exactly I was.

Or maybe not so much, considering the shaking had still happened. Takes a lot to rattle a transdimensional spaceship, after all. And now that I was paying attention there was an odd metal grinding sound added in the mix.

I rushed out to the console room, just in time to watch the tip of a ship's hull disappear behind the TARDIS's healing wall, a pile of rubble and a buoy ring with the word Titanic printed on it lying on the ground, stars and all.

It certainly helped sum up what point exactly in the show I'd landed, but also brought with it a whole bunch of questions. Did this mean that I'd crash landed on earth right in front of Martha's house? And no one noticed? And didn't The Doctor run into one of his past selves in some minisode right before this? Did I sleep through that? Was that even part of this cannon/reality? Ugh, the timing of it all was making me dizzy.

"Looks like you're up, then." The Doctor said, getting my attention. "Sorry about the rough alarm clock. Put her shields down to do some fiddling, but it looks like we've run into something interesting. Wanna see?"

I eyed the cheeky and completely non-apologetic grin that'd slowly overtaken his face suspiciously, "Is that OK?"

"OK?" He scoffed, "Of course it's is! Not exactly rocket science. Just open the door, look around a little."

He was completely missing the point and tip-toeing around the awkward tension in the room, probably on purpose knowing him, but I relented and held my tongue, instead shuffling towards the TARDIS doors and opening them to come face-to-face with the world's most exciting storage closet.

"Oooh, grandiose." I said sarcastically, before a hand grabbed my shoulder and nudged me forward.

"Got to explore a bit further than that," The Doctor rebutted, opening the closet door as we wondered out into the… I suppose lobby area of the ship, where all the guests where.

That was the odd thing, though. The entire room was packed, even as we edged towards the window and the Doctor realized we were on a ship. I probably shouldn't have, but I couldn't help wondering how many people were even on this ship. More than a dozen at least, with its overall size and the amount of people just in the lobby. Maybe a hundred? Hundreds? A thousand was pushing it, surely.

And all dead with the exception of a handful by the time the clock struck twelve.

"So, what d'ya think?" The Doctor asked, turning away from the window that showed the Earth bellow.

I tore my gaze from the crowd and Hosts in the lobby to peer down at the planet. It'd been years since I'd last seen Earth. First time getting a view from space in person, too. Never could get approval on Galifrey to visit the more well-known planets. Especially not Earth, no matter how hard I'd tried, considering how much The Doctor mucked about on it. It felt nostalgic and new all at once, and despite the situation I found a small smile on my face.

"Not bad."

"Now that's more like it." The Doctor grinned, "Though, if this is a party, we've better get dressed—especially you. Is that _camo_?"

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I frowned.

"So many things." The Doctor said, a tad bit too quickly and condemning. "But for now let's settle with the fact that everyone else is in a tux but us and we want to blend in."

I shrugged and followed him back to the TARDIS, taking whatever he threw at me and putting it on. Not the most comfortable clothing in the world, especially the bow tie, but I'd live.

"Much better," The Doctor nodded. "Now let's go see what the party's all about."

* * *

We spent more time exploring than I thought we would before investigating the actual purpose of the vessel. I had to admit for all it was a ship on the way to its own planned destruction, the entertainment and food was nice. I'd never been on a cruise before so I didn't exactly have any standards to grade it by but there was definitely lots of shiney gold stuff and ruby red things. Plus Christmas trees and lights. All the men were wearing black or white tuxedos, and the women a variation of dresses with lace and jewels embroidered into the material. There was a singer and band on-board as well as poker and various other gambling games alongside caterers that brought everyone food and drink.

And then, of course, those gaudy golden angles dressed in white robes and gloves, creepily standing to attention at various places in the room.

"Evening! Passenger 57." The Doctor greeted the machine smoothly. "Terrible memory. Remind me, uh, you would be?"

"Information. Heavenly Host supplying tourists information." The Host spoke, voice light and welcoming with a robotic lite and light whirring jaw. I could certainly see how no one would automatically assume the Hosts had been reprogrammed to eventually slaughter everyone on the ship. With maybe some exception to the blank dead eyes.

"Good." The Doctor continued. "So, um, tell me then— because I'm an idiot— where are we… from?"

"Information. The Titanic is on route from the planet Sto in the Cassavalian Belt. The purpose of the cruise is to experience primitive cultures."

The Doctor scrunched his face at that. "Titanic… who thought of the name?"

"Information. It was chosen as the most famous vessel of the planet Earth."

"Didn't they tell you _why_ it was famous?"

"Information. All designations are chosen by Mr. Max Capricorn. President of—Max—max—MAX—" The machine stuttered, repeating the last word over and over at different pitches and volumes.

"Oh, bit of a glitch." The Doctor said, hands moving from his pockets to reach for his sonic before two workers walked up to interrupt him.

"Sorry, sir." One of them apologized, the machine still twitching and stuttering. "We'll handle this."

"Software problem, that's all. Leave it with us, sir." The man pressed a button on the back of the Host's neck, powering it down, before nodding towards us. "Merry Christmas"

The Doctor nodded in acknowledgement as I watched on, another man joining the two to help drag away the host, all three whispering amongst each other once they were out of earshot.

"That can't be good." I said.

The Doctor looked at me, skeptical and perhaps a bit harsh. "Never had a software problem?"

I glanced at him, wondered if he realized the implications he was making, but then brushed it off again. I didn't expect any of my warnings to work. I was used to people not believing me. I had different plans.

"Just being a bit paranoid. I'm going to explore the halls a bit more." I said, "I'll see you later."

"You want to separate?" The Doctor asked, giving me a weird look again.

But, to be fair, I _was_ actually up to something this time.

"You can come with if you want to." I shrugged. "But I'll be back in a minute and figured you'd want to go chat."

"Nah." He relented. "Go have your fun."

I smiled at him. "You too."

* * *

It was depressing watching The Doctor walk away, dejected because of me, but regardless we separated through the crowd to opposite ends of the room. When I glanced back after hearing glass break to see a blonde server, though, I stopped worrying and started to get to work.

Once I'd actually gotten out of the lobby and into the halls, though, I didn't have much of a plan. Just a general idea of what I needed to do first- head to the bridge and knock the old Captain out before he could shoot me and go back to wrecking the vessel. Then put the shields up so that the meteors wouldn't damage the ship.

If I managed that, then from there it was an entirely different script. Max still had some sort of override in place, as well as his murdering angels, but most of his other plans would all end poorly and look nothing like the faked accident he wanted. If anything, he'd override control and shut down the engines to make it seemed like the machinery had failed while he killed off the witnesses. But there would be time before the crash to attempt to get the engine running and plenty of power with the lesser damage. Teleports would still work, and I had the Doctor and TARDIS on my side if everything worked how I hoped.

But, of course, there where tons of practical flaws in my flimsy 'plan'. Time was the biggest one. I didn't have it. A few minutes, maybe 10, at most 20, before everything went to hell, and I had to find and enter the Bridge without anyone asking questions. Dressed like a guest instead of an employee.

In an ideal world having physic paper would have been nice, or even just a map, but again, people love asking questions and being suspicious but also never believing you when you tell the truth because it's improbable.

Luckily I'd mastered my bullshit confidence walk centuries ago and half the staff wasn't even present so I had no real issue being seen. Still no maps, so I spent most of the time rushing through halls wondering aimlessly with enough stress to kill someone, but when I heard a loud gunshot, it didn't take long to spot a thick door around the corner with those iconic window doors and know I was in the right place.

Once I was close enough to the door, I could hear voices muffled on the other side, which confirmed my suspicions. It wasn't even locked, the room. The door slid open to reveal the captain steering, his back turned, and a young man bleeding on the floor. They were so enraptured by their own conversation that they didn't even notice me.

"—six months? They offered me so much money." The older man spoke, tone somber. "For my family."

I suppose it was sad, misguided, and that perhaps I should have given him a chance to make the choice not to murder a bunch of innocent people himself, but instead I quickly hit the old captain on the back of the neck, hard and on the just right nerve. He crumbled to the floor and I caught his head before it hit the ground, moving him off to the side and patting him down for weapons, finding a pistol that I slide far away from him and over to the young man's side of the room.

"Shields?" I questioned the bleeding young man immediately, because I could probably figure out how to pull them up with time, but those meteors where way too close for comfort for me to try being smart.

"That panel, right there—" He pointed to the one above them, gasping in pain at the movement and voice strained. "You've got to redirect the energy, it's all been diverted."

Not exactly the level of detail that I wanted, but it worked. I moved over to him, looking at the panel with thankfully pretty intuitive controls and— well, spotted hole number one in the plan. Most of the energy was being diverted to room 31, Max's hidey-hole. He'd know what had happened the moment I'd done it, if I could siphon his power at all. Without it, though, I could make a thin shield, and focus what areas it covered. If I waited until the last minute or few seconds I might be able to put the shields up late enough that he couldn't override them in time.

I pulled up a screen that gave me a view of the life signs on the ship. A majority of the guests where in the lobby and center, the least in the back, where cargo and rooms where. I steered the ship, inching it as much as it would let me in the time that I had so that if the meteors did hit they would wreck the less populated areas. It was unbelievably slow, and if Max was paying attention might make him suspicious, but I did it anyway. And with one last breath, flipped the switches that would turn the shields on as the bright lights outside almost hugged the hull, closing my eyes as I bent down to brace for impact.

But instead of the explosion of metal and sparks and collapsing rubble I was expecting, all that I heard was the loud groan of metal as the ship shook like it had hit a particularly rough bought of turbulence.

Slowly, as the tremors lessened, I inched my way up to see through cracked glass the meteors diverted before peering at the life signs on the ship to see less than half as many casualties as I had been expecting.

I couldn't help the sigh of relieve that escaped me as I slumped against the controls.

"Do you have an intercom or something?" I asked the guy below me once I'd collected myself. He was still bleeding onto the floor, though he looked just as relieved as I did. "We should make sure people head back to their rooms. I doubt our window is the only one cracked, and I'd hate to see what happens if the shields drop again."

He nodded. "Same panel other end."

I pressed the button, unsure what exactly to say. "Testing, testing, can anyone hear me?"

* * *

 **A/N:** I forgot how much I loved this episode. Maybe not quite as good in the first person POV of someone who already knows what's going to happen, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway!

I took Emrys advice and now the timeline starts right after Martha's departure. Thinking on it I can't pass up the chance to write Donna, not to mention Jack's last appearance is when she leaves too so yes I caved and bended canon to my will. Mwhahaha. Still hoping to avoid too much script rewriting so I might skip over a few episodes in-story and add in some original adventures (if you like give me some planet ideas or historical locations, etc you might like to see!). Lucan himself will be proactive in making some changes when the TV plot pops up like he did this chapter, for better or for worse, so look forward to it.

Also thanks to shadowcaster01 for pointing out my issue with where/were. I've tried to do better this chapter, and will edit the other when I've got time, so hopefully it isn't as bad but I've got a nightmares worth of bad grammar habits lol Sorry.


End file.
